


Torment Waking or Sleeping

by Rosa_Cotton



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Dreams, F/M, Frustration, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosa_Cotton/pseuds/Rosa_Cotton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eowyn seemingly cannot escape the notice of one of the Fellowship – nor, possibly, wants to. Movieverse, AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torment Waking or Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _The Lord of the Rings_ , all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.

Eowyn carefully closes the book and smiles at the two children seated at her feet. Their eyes filled with sleepiness, Eothain and Freda slowly stand and quietly thank her for the story and nod to her respectfully. Eowyn’s old nurse, Iris, comes forward and, taking a hand of each child into her own, gently leads them from the chamber to prepare for bed. 

A silent sigh escapes Eowyn and her shoulders sag slightly, weariness coming over her. For a second she turns her mind to the next day, when all will leave Edoras and make for the safety of Helm’s Deep. She pushes the thoughts away; tomorrow shall have enough trouble of its own. For a moment she traces the pattern on the book cover, then slides a glance toward the dwarf, Master Gimli; he had wandered in during the middle of her reading to the children and had silently sat himself at a table across the room, listening while smoking his pipe. Meeting her gaze, he gives her a small smile and nod of respect. 

Returning his nod, slowly the woman rises to her feet. She takes the opportunity to look ever so quickly towards the main doors of the chamber. Yes…he is still there, hidden in the dark shadow of the doorway. He had come not many minutes after Gimli. Yet he had not entered the room but stayed in the doorway in an attempt to go unnoticed, she suspects, listening and watching. Eowyn’s voice had faltered for an instant when she first felt his gaze upon her, yet recovered so quickly hardly anyone noticed. And there he remains. 

The lady is still for a moment, her face an expression of deep thinking. Making a decision, she turns and makes for a side entrance. She is unwilling to tolerate his company tonight. She is halfway to her freedom when she senses him enter the room and follow her. Her face warms, and a wave of emotions rises in her. Her strides quicken and she grasps the book tightly in her hands, not caring if it is obvious she is fleeing. 

Unexpected deliverance comes from Gimli who calls to his companion and bids the man come over and join him. Surprised yet thankful for this good fortune, Eowyn does not slow her pace and dares not look back to see what is happening between the two. She sighs in relief when she steps into a passageway and can hear the dwarf’s and man’s voices no more. In case he manages to escape the dwarf to pursue her, she walks quickly through the hallways, on the alert for any shadowing footsteps. 

Eventually satisfied she is not being followed, Eowyn makes her way to one of her favorite spots, a place of peace and privacy: a balcony hardly used these days. Sitting herself on a small, old bench, she breathes deeply and tilts her head back to gaze upon the clear night sky. For a very long time she gazes upon the heavens, counting the stars to keep her mind off the man with long hair and such intense eyes. 

The hour is late when Eowyn stops contemplating the stars and rises from her seat. Certain now the four companions have retired for the night, she quietly moves through the deserted passages. Tomorrow will be a long day, and she must be rested for the journey; she must be strong for her people. 

She enters the large chamber where she has come to sleep in the last couple of months. The room is in almost complete darkness. Torches at each end of the room have nearly burned out. In the center of the hall the fire in the fireplace has nearly died away; the smoke and dying flames blend with the bittersweet scents of the herbs Iris had put in the fire. 

Letting her eyes adjust to the dimness, Eowyn makes out the dark silhouettes of trunks against the walls, all in various stages of being packed. Blinking her eyes against the moisture that suddenly wells up in them, she moves inside the chamber. The chaise she sleeps on is bathed in a narrow beam of pale moonlight that comes through a window. Sitting down on it, she smoothes its warm blue coverlet with her hand. 

Without bothering to change her garments, Eowyn lies down, hugging the book to her chest. She stares up at the distant ceiling. The fragrance of herbs makes her drowsy and her eyes grow heavy. Soon they slip shut, and her breathing grows shallow; even as she drifts to sleep, her worries and cares are left behind for a time. 

The torches and fire slowly but surely burn out; all that remain of the flames are the wispy grey trails of smoke that rise towards the ceiling. Drafts of cool air move in and out of the chamber, carrying with it the smell of smoke and lingering scents of the herbs. 

The sound of a quiet footfall comes from the doorway. Almost noiselessly the boots move slowly across the floor towards the sleeping maiden, stopping when they reach the chaise. The man gazes down on Eowyn with admiration. The light of the moon makes her face white, her hair mixed with silver; she appears like a cold maiden, from those dark myths he had been told as a child. Her chest rises and falls steadily. A hint of peacefulness is in her expression. 

He savors this, to be able to watch her for a moment, free from her gaze that would turn cold whenever she discovered him observing her, and her cheeks would burn with indifferent anger. Each time he would quickly look away, embarrassed and vexed for reasons he was not yet ready to identify. 

The man frowns as he feels a draft and notices Eowyn shiver; her arms tighten around the book and her body. Without hesitation he unclasps his cloak and removes it, carefully putting it over her. One of his hands moves from the cloak to touch her hair spread about her on the chaise. 

“Eowyn,” he whispers, like a caress, soft and tender. His eyes shine as he lowers his head and gently kisses her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. “Eowyn.” 

~~~ 

Eowyn’s eyes fly open. Instead of seeing a face dangerously close to her own as expected, she finds herself gazing up only at darkness, the ceiling high above her. Her heart pounding, she raises her head. She is alone and chilly. He is not here, nor his cloak, nothing. 

She looks about a final time and moans. It had been a dream – a terrible, wonderful dream. Scolding herself, she lets her head fall back onto the chaise. Absently she touches her forehead and then quickly withdraws her hand. She wills her heart to stop racing. 

“Am I not even safe in my dreams from you, Boromir of Gondor?” she demands in a frustrated whisper. 

 

THE END


End file.
